


Regular Coffee, Extra Cream

by nicolespork



Series: Excuse Me Waiter, This Coffee is Burnt [2]
Category: Homestuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-01-06 11:14:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1106144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicolespork/pseuds/nicolespork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One shots in John's POV. First 2 chapters are out of order though</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little thing I wrote because I felt like it. A spin off from Cream to Your Coffee chapter 14. PLEASE READ CHAPTER 13 FIRST. I don't care if you read this before or after you read Chapter 14 but please read the other chapters first. (If you have read CTYC, this is not a required reading by any means just something I thought would be fun).

You never go into your dad’s study. There have only been a few occasions where he’s sent you in there to retrieve one of his pipes, usually when he was busy baking or cooking, but very rarely does he call you in. That’s why when you hear his voice loudly say your name from down the hall it startles you. It also kind of annoys you because this means you have to stop texting Dirk, and any time you’re not spending talking to him or hanging out with him is wasted time in your opinion. It’s only been a couple days since you became Official Boyfriends and even just thinking that makes you grin so wide your cheeks ache. You haven’t stopped talking to him, the only time you don’t talk to him is when you’re sleeping (or he’s working) and you plan on going to see him at work as often as you always have. No more weeks off from that, not for a while. You text a quick brb to him and instantly he tells you to “hurry your cute ass back here” and you giggle to yourself as you push off your bed and pad your way down the hall. The door to the study is open, and you see your dad behind his desk polishing one of his pipes and smoking another. His lips are pressed tightly around it and you sit down in the armchair in front of the desk. He looks up at you, setting the pipe he was cleaning down. He regards you for some time before standing and crossing the desk, leaning against it when he’s in front of you. You think maybe he’s going for a Humphrey Bogart kind of look, and if he were wearing his fedora he’d probably nail it.

You swallow anxiously. You don’t have any idea what this could be about and he’s looking right at you, as if trying to search for any kind of secret you may be hiding. Even if you actually are hiding something from him, but that’s beside the point. He doesn’t need to know! He removes the pipe from his lips, brow knitted and you just hate this, you hate feeling like he’s going to tear you apart for something you don’t even know if you did.

“Jonathan,” he starts and okay, it’s normal. At least he didn’t call you just John. “I want to talk to you about something.”

Shit. Playing dumb will save you though, right?

“Uh. Okay?”

He sucks his pipe again, a long drag and he blows the smoke away from you as he examines the wood finish on the pipe.

“You seem to be in a better mood the last couple weeks,” he starts slowly. “Please do not take this as complaining, it’s more intended to be an observation.”

“Sure, I was acting pretty strange for awhile. It would be weirder to me if you didn’t notice.”

He smiles softly. Drag off his pipe. Exhale. Your anxiety hasn’t lessened. You’re tempted to ask for a smoke.

“I also notice, and please do not take this accusingly it’s simply just another observation, that a lot of your free time has been devoted toward Starbucks. Have you taken an interest in coffee? I think it would be cheaper at this rate if I invest in a Keurig.”

There he goes, trying to take interest into things he thinks you like. He can be so frustrating sometimes. You don’t even want to get into the whole harlequin debacle. That took years to sort out.

“No, it’s fine. I mostly buy hot chocolate.”

“It would still be cheaper to make your own.”

“I like getting out of the house.”

He sets his pipe down on the desk and crosses his arms. Your dad is the only person you know who could look so relaxed while still looking intimidating. You think it’s all the practice as a businessman. He could give the people on Madison Avenue a run for their money. You hate seeing it used against you. 

“How’s your friend doing?”

“Who? Karkat?”

Your dad chuckles, though you hear a slight twinge of annoyance. Playing dumb isn’t going to save you.

“No. The one who came to see you play piano. I can only assume your good mood is his influence? And I believe he was the same one who works at the Starbucks you frequent as well.”

You swallow. You had been hoping he would forget meeting Dirk, but that was just all wishful thinking. A small part of you knew he wouldn’t forget. He never forgets anything to do with you. Which you suppose is endearing, but right now it’s your worst enemy.

“Oh. Well, he’s pretty good I guess. I don’t talk to him much.”

“You talk to him enough that he came to see you play.”

“Right, but that doesn’t really mean anything.”

He crosses back behind his desk, and sits down. He picks up his pipe again and resumes cleaning, leaning back in the chair slightly, looking fondly at the pipe.

“Well, in any case he seems important enough to you that you invite him to the house. Any thoughts on that?”

Your eyes snap up to his immediately, as if you’re certain you’re going to catch his bluff. But he’s not. You can tell he’s serious, and you shrink into the armchair. He’s not even looking directly at you, but you can’t help but feel small.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He puts down the pipe and looks right at you. You forgot you were supposed to try something other than playing stupid.

“I was gathering some of your clothes to start the laundry and I found a shirt on your floor that was a bit too big for you. It was advertising some kind of puppet website.”

Stupid Dirk not taking all his stupid clothes. You don’t know how you could have missed that, but it makes sense. They were kind of thrown onto his bag in a pile before he packed them up. And it’s not like you keep your dirty clothes organized all the time, you probably just thought it was one of your own if you couldn’t see the design on it. Still, this is his fault for not double-checking. Obviously you aren’t to blame for any part of this at all, that would be silly!

“Oh, that! I spilled my hot chocolate on me while I was hanging out there. He let me borrow one of his spares, and I just threw the other one away. I was starting to grow out of it, anyway. I guess I just forgot to return it.”

You amaze yourself with your own ability to lie. You give yourself a pat on the back. Way to go you. Hufflepuff just got ten points. 

“That was nice of him. Even though I’m sure he doesn’t miss it much, it would still be nice of you to give it back, Jonathan.”

“I plan to, now that I remember. I can take it to him the next time I go to Starbucks.”

“That won’t be necessary. Why don’t you invite him to dinner instead?”

You pale. Your dad looks at you over the top of his pipe. You laugh nervously.

“Really, Dad? Isn’t that a bit much for just forgetting a shirt?”

He goes back to cleaning. You can see the smug smile tugging at the corners of his mouth and you wish you had a cake on hand to throw in his stupid Dad face.

“I suppose, but I would like to have a more private word with him as well, since you two seem so close. I’d like nothing more than to get to know all your friends, John. Make sure you’re mixing with the right crowd.”

“It’s not like I have a real crowd to mix with anyway,” you retort. But it’s no use. He’s not changing his mind on this. He sets the pipe down and leans back in his chair.

“You are quite right, which is why I have decided that online schooling is no longer suitable. I have taken it upon myself to enroll you at the local high school. You start next week.”

You perk up, suddenly excited. You’ve been begging him for as long as you can remember to put you in real school and now he finally has. Sure it’s a bit late but you don’t mind, you’re too elated.

“Of course this will mean you’ll have to cut back on your hot chocolate.”

Once he says those words, you deflate. The excitement you felt is replaced by an emptiness you’ve never felt before. You won’t have time to see Dirk. Starbucks opens well after school starts, and you doubt you’ll be lucky enough to have a free period and even then, it’s a longer walk from the school than from your house. You hadn’t thought about this. But now that you have, you can’t stop thinking about the negative and you wish you could tell your dad that you don’t want to go, but that will look suspicious. You force a smile and try to sound excited instead of hurt.

“That’s great, Dad!”

“I thought you’d be happy to hear that. Now why don’t you go run along? You have a lot to get ready for.”

He straightens the chair out once more and resumes his cleaning, focusing all his attention that. You stand and leave, closing the door behind you and walking slowly back to your room, feet dragging as if you have a weight attached to them. There’s a bunch of messages on your phone from Dirk wondering where you are and you reply quickly that you aren’t feeling well and are just going to go to bed even though it’s only a little after seven.

You spend the rest of your night watching movies and trying not to think about anything at all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting back into my brojohn groove and was surprised I didn't choose to have this be the first time I wrote something through John's POV so that's why the two chapters are out of order, canonically with the work.
> 
> So I decided to fix that immediately. Companion to chapter 12 of my Cream to Your Coffee fic, with references to events in chapter 11. Enjoy out of context if you'd like.
> 
> Piano blowjobs.

It’s been a week since you’ve seen Dirk, and you try not to let that bother you. Your tears dried up three days ago; you’re fairly certain it’ll be months before you’ll be able to even cry again. You’ve been practising for your recital to take your mind off it, but that unfortunately doesn’t help. The opening melody of Moonlight Sonata makes your heart break even more as it reflects how you’ve been feeling all week. You brought this on yourself, of course. Why did you think you guys were dating? It’s unfair to think of what he did as cheating, and you hate yourself for getting so mad at him before considering that in the first place, especially with the way he called to you. Your mind hasn’t been able to let you forget the pain you heard in voice as you walked away. You wouldn’t even let him explain, how could you be so selfish? You want him to text you so you can tell him all this. The thought of texting him first has crossed your mind, but you wouldn’t know what you’d do if you never got a response.

You button up your white shirt, tuck it into your black pants, and straighten your bowtie as you walk into the bathroom. The only reason you hate recitals is because they make you dress nice. You scrub your face with a wet washcloth and try to tame your hair, but it’s just as unruly as ever. You hear your dad call for you, and you shut off the light and head downstairs.

“Ready?” He asks you. You nod, making your way to the door. You haven’t felt the need to talk much the last week, which is probably what signaled to your dad something was wrong in the first place. The drive to the school is quiet. The only sound comes from the Rat Pack CD that’s playing softly from the car speakers. You let the sounds of Frank Sinatra’s voice surround you.

“I’ve got you under my skin,” he sings. Your chest prickles and tightens, you feel a dampness forming in your eyes that you blink away. 

==>

Your dad drops you off at the auditorium entrance to go park the car. He tells you he’ll come find you later. You walk into the backstage area where the other performers are talking with their parents, your piano teacher checks in with groups every so often. You take a seat on one of the stools away from everyone else. You’ve never really talked to the others anyway. You put your elbows on your knees and rest your head on your hands. This is the first time you’ve left the house since the last time you went to Starbucks. You try not to think about that.

“Jonathan,” your teacher says. You hadn’t even noticed her come over. “We missed you at class this week.”

“Sorry, Ms. Crocker. I haven’t been feeling well,” your voice sounds quiet to your ears.

She smiles, “Well it’s nice to see you.” She puts a reassuring hand on your shoulder and leans closer to you. “I wouldn’t want to lose my most talented student.”

With a wink she leaves you to go talk to the other students that just walked in and the compliment makes you smile weakly. You know she didn’t just say that because she had to, there was a reason she asked you to perform Beethoven after all.

==>

A half hour before the show starts you see your dad walking toward where you’re sitting. You sit up straight and he places his arm around your shoulders, hugging you into his chest. It’s comforting smelling his cologne and relaxes the butterflies in your stomach.

“Your friend is here,” he says to you and you look up at him confused. Karkat is in Washington. “The one from Starbucks.”

Oh. He lets you go and immediately you’re tense again. The butterflies begin fluttering and you’re suddenly wishing you can ask Ms. Crocker if she can change the program and move your performance to the first half because you really don’t think you can make it an hour. Dirk is here. You didn’t think he’d show up. Sure you had given him the flyer and sure you had been hoping all week that he would come but now that’s confirmed you aren’t sure how to hold yourself together. Will you be able to talk to him later? Does he even want to talk to you later? He’s here so maybe he’s been torn up the same way you’ve been. It's stupid a stupid thought. He has that guy. You’re just the teenager who bugs him at work.

“Cool,” you say and you hope you sound happy. Your dad gives you a look, and you force a smile. Seeming satisfied he gives you one last hug and tells you he’s proud of you before going to find a seat. Ms. Crocker announces that there’s fifteen minutes before show time. You feel like you could vomit.

==>

Time has got to be the biggest tease you’ve ever come across. The first hour of the recital drags on so painfully slow. You’ve been pacing circles backstage since your dad left, getting weird looks from the other students but you don’t care. Dirk is here. You’ve been repeating those three words in your head for the entire first hour. Will he be in the front row where you can see him? Your stomach flutters at the thought of seeing his pointed sunglasses and ratty hat. What if he’s not wearing his glasses? Your heart flutters and you blush. The thought of his eyes on you is one you hadn’t considered even after your dad told you he’d be watching you play. You’ve missed his eyes as much as you’ve missed the rest of him. After the intermission time seems to get with the program because the three performances before yours finish before you’ve had a chance to breathe. You take the stage, and briefly look out to the crowd. You can’t see him, and you’re not sure if that eases your nerves or makes them worse.

You sit on the piano bench and take a deep breath. As you exhale, you press your fingers to the keys and the music wraps around you. The first notes fill the auditorium and fill you with a montage of everything that’s happened. Your eyes close and you lose yourself in the music that has become effortless to play. You remember seeing that guy come in, the conversation you overheard, the pang in your chest that you felt, Dirk saying he’s sorry and trying to explain, you being an idiot and rejecting him. The pain in his voice. As the song’s tune transitions to the upbeat melody, you think back to an hour ago when your dad told you he was here. You imagine seeing him after the recital is over and the feeling of his strong arms. You’re gonna kiss him, you decide. If you see him after this you’re going to apologize and then you’re going to kiss him. But you’re still not sure if that will fix everything. You don’t want to be lead on again. You start playing faster now as the music instructs and the melody is tumultuous and fast paced and the perfect soundtrack for your conflicting feelings. You want to be with him so badly, but you don’t want to make his life any harder than you already have. 

When you play the last notes you let them ring through the auditorium. Your eyes open as the applause rings loudly in your ears and you smile a little as you bow. Ms. Crocker is beaming when you pass her as you walk backstage. She stops you with her hands on your shoulders. She’s giving you the same proud look you’ve seen from your father countless times.

“That was beautiful, Jonathan,” she exclaims softly. “There was so much emotion I could have sworn I was watching Beethoven himself!”

You laugh a little. The first time in a week.

“Thank you, Ms. Crocker.” You walk back to the stool feeling confident and relaxed and determined. 

==>

You’re no longer confident. The show ends and it all hits at once. You have to find Dirk, but you have to get rid of your dad first and that might prove to be difficult. You unclip your bowtie and shove it into your pocket, you undo a couple of the top buttons of your shirt and pull it out from your pants. You want to feel as relaxed as possible even if your nerves try to make you otherwise. It doesn’t take long to find your dad in the crowd, but you still don’t know where Dirk is even with the help of the auditorium lights. He probably went home; there was no guarantee he was going to stay. The thought gives you a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. No matter, you have to at least make sure. You’ll walk home if you have to.

“That was wonderful,” your dad says as he hugs you. “I’m so proud of you, son.” He looks it too, but of course he always does.

“Thanks, Dad,” you say. “So some of the other students are going to get post-recital dinner and I want to go too.” You know he’ll agree to that. He’s always encouraging you to engage with people your age when you can.

“Of course, Son. Do you need a ride to the meet-up?”

You shake your head, “that’s alright I already have a ride.” You almost feel bad lying to him but then you think of locking eyes with Dirk and your heart skips a beat. You can handle the guilt of a little white lie but you wouldn’t be able to handle not seeing orange irises again. He takes the bait though, and gives your shoulder a squeeze.

“Let me know if you need a ride home,” he says before leaving. You watch his back until it rounds the corner of the auditorium's entrance and you take to the stage as the last few people leave hoping that the height will give you a better view to where Dirk might be sitting. 

You see him in the very last row. Your heart begins pounding in your chest you’re surprised you can’t hear it echoing off the auditorium walls. He’s not wearing his hat, and you think he looks better without it. You feel it when you lock eyes with his even though they’re hidden behind his glasses. Your throat tenses and you have to remind yourself to breathe. He doesn’t say a word, and you’re not sure if that’s good or bad. You wipe the sweat off your hands on the side of your pants. It’s now or never. You need him close to you.

“Are you just going to stand there with that dumb look on your face or are you going to get your ass up here?” You call out to him. That’s all it takes for him to get moving. Every step towards you increases your heartbeat. Anything you had planned to say is lost in your mind when he stands directly in front of you. He looks so handsome and it makes your heart ache with want even more. 

Dirk opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t. He pulls you into him and the action catches you off guard at first that it takes you half a second to relax against his chest. You wrap your arms around his waist for the first time in too long and you breathe him in. There’s a small hint of coffee under his Irish Spring body wash that’s so fitting. You feel his nose in your hair and realize he’s probably doing the same thing you are. You want to kiss him, but there’s so much that needs to be said first. You reluctantly pull away from him and he let’s you go. You’re trying to read his face when he raises his hand and removes his glasses. It surprises you when he settles them to your shirt collar and you look away from him for the first time in awhile. You don’t think he intended for it to feel as intimate as it does, or maybe he did and that just fills you with the urge to kiss him even further as long you look back at him. Why is he so perfect?

He says your name and it sounds so sweet after it's been so long, but you cut him off. You unload the conclusion you’ve come to during the week you had to think all the while fidgeting with his glasses as a way to try and relax your nerves. You tell him you're sorry. You’ve been wanting to tell him this for so long that finally being able to overwhelms you. He shakes his head when you finish talking, blaming himself for leading you on. He tells you he should have considered your feelings and you sink with guilt. You cast your eyes downward because you don’t deserve to look at him when you question why it matters. You feel his fingers under your chin. You feel the heat from them as you look in his eyes again. They’re the color of orange soda, and you drink them up.

There’s no hesitation when he responds that you matter and you feel your heart swell. You feel weightless as he pours out the rest of his feelings. You smile at him.

“I never thought Bro Strider would be the one to care about what society thinks,” you tease. His laugh rings in your ears like your favorite song and he pulls you into him by your waist. He tells you he’s sorry and your arms circle his neck. You had never been able to forget the feel of his muscles around you but you find that your memories had not done it justice. 

You tell him you forgive him, acknowledging that you’ve made things hard for him, and confessing your desire to be with him. At this point it feels like more of a need than a want. You never want to be apart from him like this ever again. You’re scared of him rejecting you but then he tells you that he’s done denying his feelings. He’s realized how much he wants to be with you too. Your heart soars. 

“I never want to see you walk away from me again, not like that,” he says. Your head is spinning. You’ve never done drugs but you have to wonder if this is what getting high is like. “I never want to make you feel like that ever again. I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

“Oh? And how are you going to do that?” You dare him as your heart pounds you almost didn’t hear your own words over the sound of it. 

His lips find yours before you can even register that he moved to close the gap. You’re thankful for how rough they press against yours because you would have thought you were dreaming otherwise. You can’t help opening your mouth to him immediately to let his tongue in and the second they touch you hear him moan and it’s the most gorgeous sound you’ve ever heard. You feel your pants tightening as the kiss continues, your mouths moving quicker than they ever have in the few times you've kissed before. His experience meets your inexperience to produce a make out so sloppy you almost worry it’s turning him off but he’s not pulling away from you any time soon. 

Your mouth slips off his for a second and you bite his lip, he pushes harder against you and begins walking your backward. You’re thankful when he picks you up because your legs feel so much like jello you’re worried they’re collapse beneath you. You feel the uneven cold touch of the piano keys as random notes fill the room but you can’t bring yourself to care about them. He’s touring over you, and through the hazy state of your brain you register the grip of his hands as he spreads your legs open for him. You don’t care if he can see your bulge, in fact you want him to. But when you feel him between your legs you can’t help but lock him in place with them. You don’t want him out of your grasp. You do have to come up for air, though. When you break the kiss you can feel just how out of breath you became and how warm your face is. God, your head is spinning but you’re addicted to the sensation. 

“Okay,” you finally manage in between taking breaths. “I think you’re in the clear now.”

He smirks at you and it shivers down your spine, “That’s a shame ‘cause I haven’t even gotten warmed up yet.”

He silences anything you were going to say with kisses across your face. You gasp when his mouth is on your neck and your hands bury into his hair, you hardly felt them move at all. He’s sucking and biting softly at the skin of your neck, licking to ease sting of his teeth. You can’t bring yourself to care about any marks he’ll leave; you’ll wear them proudly when you don’t have to hide them from your dad. He kisses your neck lightly now while his hands explore your body. You shiver as they touch your thighs and your body molds into him as they slide up further. Just as the thought of wanting to feel his hands on your dick crosses your mind he kisses your lips again and that’s when you realize where his hands had been traveling to all along. 

The button on your pants pops open and you anticipate the relief of your zipper, but it never comes. One of his fingers traces the metal slowly and you moan when you feel your dick throb, you want him to give you more. He takes the hint and your zipper opens. You work to take your pants and boxers off as he opens your shirt and pushes you back, the rough leather of his gloves on your skin matches his kiss and the sensation sends a shiver down your spine as his hands rest on your hips. The notes you hit when you settle back down threaten to remove you from this moment but the kisses he plants to your chest as he works his way down keep your attention where it belongs. You lose control of your breathing the further south he goes, but you aren’t prepared for how suddenly his lips wrap around your cock. Your hand reaches out to his head and your fingers find the softness of his hair inviting, you tighten your grip. He moans on your dick and it’s all you can do to not cum immediately. Your own moan escapes you as he finally moves his head, you're breathing heavy while he takes your length down his throat. You had watched every move he made and when his lips are at the base of your dick orange fills your vision and if you hadn’t already been speechless you would have been now. He pulls back and his mouth sucks at the tip and then it’s working back down and all you see is black. 

“Holy fuck,” you can’t concentrate on anything but his lips and what they’re doing to you. “Oh my god, please.” You become nothing more than a moaning mess as he starts going faster. It’s not long until your grip his hair tightens again, the force of your orgasm hitting you with one last deep moan. You’re pretty sure you see stars as he swallows your cum. Your eyes flutter open and the content feeling washes over you. That was better than any jerk off session you’ve had in the couple months you’ve started thinking about him. You barely feel it when he sets you back on the ground and you’re thankful you can lean against him until you can stand on your own; your legs have yet to stop shaking however. He’s grinning and dressing you, and you can’t help but grin too before kissing his cheek. You lean into him and bask in the afterglow.

He asks if you’re good. You nod, you just need a minute. You hear his soft laugh and you two banter. When he accuses you of planning this you can’t help the feeling of satisfaction you get. Your fingers intertwine with his and he kisses your hand. It’s so incredibly cheesy but your heart swells when you meet his eyes. There’s a bright shine to them that you could get used to.

You feel a little stupid for asking, but you need to confirm your relationship before you allow yourself to feel any happier. When he laughs you get scared, but then he’s pulling you closer him and tells you of course. That’s all you needed to hear. You don’t think you’ll ever be sad again.

==>

After leaving the school, you and him just drove around talking until it was midnight and you figured that was as late as your dad would believe you’d be hanging out with friends. You can’t help blowing a kiss to him before entering your house. When the door closes you lean against it and sigh happily. Tonight was better than anything you could have imagined. Of course it was. You never imagined things would go that fair but you are not the least bit disappointed. As you climb the stairs your exhaustion hits you. The light in your dad’s study shines into the hallway and you can hear the music that’s playing from his record player.

“I’m home,” you tell him cheerily. He looks up from his pipe collection. He smiles when he sees you.

“Did you have a good time, Son?” It’s an innocent question, but your face feels a little warm when he asks. If only he knew. That's when you remember the hickies that spot your neck. You hope he doesn't notice those.

“Yeah, it was great!” You reply maybe a little too happy. He seems to relax with relief.

“That’s wonderful,” he says and you think you're in the clear. "Son, did something happen to your neck?" Shit.

"Oh, we went out for a walk after dinner and it was a little buggy. I think I got bit by something."

He eyes you tentatively but to your relief doesn't press the issue.

"Well, put some lotion on it before you go to bed." You tell him you will, and say good night.

“ _Fly me to the moon_ ,” Frank Sinatra starts singing as you leave. You smile wide and feel like you’re floating all the way to your room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is longer than the chapter it's based on lol


End file.
